


What Took Me so Long

by AnnCherie



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, High School, basically friends trusting friends, pre Brakebills, with older sisters who know better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-04 09:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnCherie/pseuds/AnnCherie
Summary: based loosely on the Head over Feet song





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/gifts).



 

It starts like this is: Julia watches Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants at the birthday party of a girl named Kayla who was more unpopularly nerdy than Quentin. Said movie is two years old and by no means racy to a sixteen year old, but it’s Kayla’s favorite and Julia has already given into making her happy purely by attending the party. The movie isn’t life changing by any means, just some generic teen movie about finding who one was through friendship. If Julia’s mother was here she would have shut the “drivel” off in minutes before putting an obscure Indie movie on in the name of art and making her daughter cultured.

While a gorgeous blonde character falls in love with her older-but-not-too-much-older summer camp soccer coach and loses her virginity to him, Julia finds her inner critique pausing. Bridgette, the character, quickly falls into an empty depression all from choosing to be reckless. It’s silly. A cautionary tale told in so many formats as old and older than Romeo and Juliet. There’s something about this girl, though, the way her sun-soaked smile disappears in a weary sadness that strikes Julia. When she drives away from Kayla’s party, if one could call it that, her entire mind wraps around the horrible fear that she might eventually be hurt too.

Sex hasn’t been on the forefront of her mind. Not when she’s already preparing for Ivy League universities in a top ranked prep school. Even if it had been her social circle is still small. Generally she’s too busy hanging closely around her best friend Quentin or befriending the kids who were stuck in the library with them. Before now she’d considered losing her virginity as a checkbox to approach later in life between– well, now and senior year. Guys were attractive sure, and sometimes even girls, but they would take too much of her valuable time. Maybe that was her mother speaking. Maybe it's the thought of having to regularly share her schedule with someone other than Quentin.

Subconscious thoughts mixed with autopilot driving turns out to be a bitch.

“Jules,” Quentin says to her, knocking on her car window now that she’s parked outside his house without having realized she came here. “You gonna come in or just be a stalker?”

“I’m–,” she considers, a faulty response on her lips. “I mean yeah. I’m coming in.”

He gives her an odd look which she honestly deserves, and she undoes her seat belt before stopping. Shaky hands are giving her away, even if Quentin hasn’t noticed them, and she looks back at him. “Actually can you hop in real quick?”

Puzzled, Quentin opens her door and plops into the passenger seat, but she can tell the longer she’s silent the quicker his anxiety rises. Nervous for the first time in her life, because things had always come easily to Julia before, she tries to ask him the question pressing against her mind. It’s there, on the tip of her tongue, but then logic returns to her and she shoves all the emotion down. Giving him an all too enthusiastic smile, she instead tells him, “Ice cream time.”

* * *

 

About six times now Quentin has asked why she has been acting weird around him, and all six times Julia deflects the question. Excuse after excuse of, “I don’t know what you mean” “I’m worried about tests” “my mom’s being a bitch” all to her most recent one of “I’m on my period”, which resulted in Quentin reappearing with chocolate ice cream from the school cafeteria. That one hurts, partly because it’s the worst thing to say as a feminist and also because she feels guilty the second he brings her dessert. He was sweet. She's a bad influence.

Another day passes after that even though Julia’s never spent more than twenty-four hours grappling with a decision. Warring with herself has taken priority over everything–  was something like this even that serious? Would it be too serious for Quentin and would he see her differently if she asked? Could their friendship survive the question? Would it be too hard if it happened with other people in the first place?

Patience for answers isn’t in her skill set.

* * *

 

They eventually hug goodbye in his room as she’s leaving his house post-study session when she breaks. Instead of letting the embrace be gentle and short, she holds on. Following her lead, he doesn’t break away and he doesn’t ask questions because that’s what best friends do. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, still annoyed that he’s finally getting taller than her, and as her entire face heats up with embarrassment she ever so slightly brushes her lips against his skin.

Of course he freezes, tensing up in a way that makes Julia want to run immediately, but then his arms tenuously tighten to keep her close. For a moment she wants to understand if everyone feels this way when thinking about these type of things, because even if it’s (potentially) losing her virginity, it’s also Quentin. Her Quentin, the one she has known since grade school and shared crayons with while mapping out Fillory. So why on earth is she selfish enough to ask something like this?

“Q?” she asks, pulling away so she can look him in the eyes and analyze his reaction. “Can I ask you something?”

His brown eyes are searching her face frantically, even if he is hiding it well for him, but his jaw is tight and he almost gulps as he asks, “Yeah of course.”

“I’m…,” she stops, unsure again. Why the hell couldn’t she just fucking speak? Standing straighter, trying to find confidence wherever it’s hidden inside of her, she continues. “I don’t want to have sex for the first time with someone else.”

Well so much for a question.

“You–.” he begins with a weak voice, squinting his eyes over her head to avoid eye contact. “Sorry, you– you what?”

“Will you have sex with me?” she rephrases, faking the confidence that she was supposed to have. Now he looks directly at her as if she’s absolutely insane and she wants to sink into the floor even if she sets her jaw and stands her ground. “Look I get if you don’t want to have sex with your best friend but I thought–,”

Quentin shakes his head vehemently. “No, that’s not what– why me, Julia?”

“I trust you,” she answers softly.

All he does is stare at her like he has no idea what to do with her before nodding. “I mean, yeah, of course I will. Not this second though, right? Because–,”

Finally the awkwardness is broken as she laughs before his rambling can go full force, and he looks at her and sighs in exasperation.

“No, not right this second, dork.”

“Do you want it to be some big thing?” he asks right after. “I mean I don’t know– if you’re asking me–,”

“No big thing,” she answers, but adds, “And don’t take it like that. I’m asking you because you’re who I want to be with, okay? Not someone else.”

The look he gives her in response is something she hasn’t seen before, not fully. Every now and then she’s seen glimpses, but now he’s letting himself look at her with a kind of emotion written on his face that she isn’t sure if she can handle and so she clumsily kisses him on the cheek and leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

As far as scheduling goes it ends up being best that the next time they see each other is at school on Monday because then they have an easy distraction of classes. Quentin fumbles, Julia barely stops herself from blushing, and it’s not until lunch that they fully have to face each other. By the time they do she’s ready for the meeting and she pulls Quentin into an excluded part of the library to whisper it to him.

 

“Hey, we said no huge thing, right?” she asked, unsure if she was coming across as anxious, critical, or desperate. “But if it’s going to be weird let’s just make a plan.”

 

Quentin seemed torn between amusement at the irony and relief, only nodding instead. Julia is glad to be contradictory if he’s already stressed enough to be nonverbal, maybe a guideline will help.

 

“Let’s pace everything. We can hold hands for a few days, then work up to kissing, then go from there. No sudden big event.”

 

All she gets is an awkward hug as the bell rang, but when they meet after classes for her to give him a ride home he seems to have calmed down and everything goes back to a slightly off version of normal.

 

* * *

  
  


Cuddling on his bed with Quentin’s arm around her after studying, watching Iron Man for the fiftieth time since it came out last year, she couldn't deny that she felt safe. Warmth had always greeted her when they were close like this before, but now that same comfort came with prickles of heat. What had once been casual now felt loaded, and even if neither of them were stiff she could still sense both of their heartbeats were faster than usual. While they pretend that the television is remotely on their minds, Julia decides that this is the easiest time to kiss him, now when they aren't looking straight at each other or standing apart. She moves her face against his neck, once more taking in his cologne and choosing to kiss his skin slowly. 

 

It's not her first kiss, or even his. She'd been kissed back in grade school in a dare by some popular fifth grader. Quentin had more recently been kissed by a girl a grade below that was half in love with him. Julia would never admit how relieved she was when he had come up to her and begged her to help him let the girl down.

 

Yet, even though it's not a new exercise, the feeling that rises up is unexpected and alarming. Quentin inhales with surprise at her first touch, slightly coughs when she doesn't immediately stop, and then he moves his shoulder so that their eyes are matching. Before she can get lost in the questions his look is asking of her she closes her eyes and kisses his lips instead. Maybe it's silly, but she notices the taste of mint on his lips first, from toothpaste or gum she isn't even sure, but the thought of him preparing does endear her. Mint is easier to focus on than the swelling feelings in her chest and the lightness in her head. Things only worsen when she moves from under his arm to flipping her body on top of him.

 

Kissing is the stage they're at, and that's all, but kissing Quentin while she’s straddling him on his bed feels like it's toeing the line she had set. Worrying that she might be pushing something he isn't ready for, she pauses and only barely pulls back before his hands tug her right back to him out of reflex. Opening his eyes right after he does it, he looks concerned as he asks, "Did you want to stop?" 

 

She shakes her head.

 

They kiss until they're out of breath and then kiss more. Julia can feel the heaviness that's beginning to set in, the physical readiness that she hasn't even emotionally caught up to. Quentin pulls back from her mouth, his hands rising to gently push her shoulders away. "Jules-- uh, I need… we need to stop."

 

Judging by the new tightness of his jeans  she can guess why. That and the way his voice was almost an octave higher than usual, and uneven. Surprising herself, she bites her lips and says, "Only if you want to."

 

"Now?" he asks, shocked, but she shakes her head. "Not all the way now. But some. Just trust me."

 

He nods and they go back to kissing, her lips on his as she moved herself further down onto the stretch of his pants. Kissing became deeper as they moved together, and Julia hadn't quite imagined that making out like this with clothes on could feel so close to her picture of what sex felt like. When the feeling of breathing naturally became a chore, too on the brink of making sounds that she was sure Ted Coldwater wouldn’t approve of, she moves off of him so that they’re lying back where they were but on their sides. They stare at each other and she has to admit she’s terrified of what he might say, but he doesn’t say anything either and before the silence becomes too heavy he smiles and kisses her forehead.

 

“Not too much?” she asks, her voice more unsteady than it’s ever been around him. An odd feeling, that.

 

Quentin actually laughs at that. “God no.”

 

“Is it weird?” she asks, unable to help herself.

 

“A little,” he admits, looking down away from her with a small gulp. Then back at her. “Not in a bad way?”

 

“Not in a bad way,” she agrees, kissing him. “Thank you.”

 

There’s something in the way he exhales as if it’s a scoff that’s betrayed by the softness in his eyes. Warranted, sure, by the way that she’s holding onto the premise of this being an arrangement and nothing else. Nothing else, she tries to remind herself, the mantra playing in her head. They were friends, the kind that had met on a playground, the kind that had once helped each other swing as they babbled on and on about Fillory. Not the kind that put everything at risk just so they could do something stupid like date.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Julia wasn't easy. She knew that. Repeatedly giving Quentin boners for her to grind on felt slightly evil but also satisfying. Both of them were magnetized around each other now, waiting for the second that they could be alone. She had been surprised by him. While he never stepped a foot outside of following her lead, the second she expanded a boundary he became comfortable with initiating anything inside of it not long after. Now that she had kissed him, he would kiss her first as soon as they were alone. Having him pull her close to him the second they entered his room after school to kiss her hard was actually a thrill. Feeling wanted that way, by someone who already loved her in many other ways, was special. He was hers and he wanted to be and she had enough of an effect on him now that she could make her best friend hard. There was something selfishly intoxicating about that.

 

When they’re in the same situation they had been often the past weeks, at the point where they would separate, Julia stays on top of him instead but doesn’t move. Quentin begins to look nervous, but relaxes slightly when she shakes her head. Apparently she’s addicted to putting him on edge though, because she asks, “Do you get off when I go home?”

 

“What?” he replies, turning red in a way that she can spot even under lamp light.

 

“Come on, dummy, answer the question.”

 

Quentin sighs and rolls his eyes, looking at the ceiling instead of her now. “What do you think?”

 

When his voice doesn’t quake as he says it, as if it’s so obvious that he doesn’t actually find shame in telling her now, she’s pleased. Maybe she should be embarrassed about that, but if she is supposed to be, the way she finds herself smirking automatically implies she didn’t get the memo. “I think it’s-- hot.”

 

Now she’s the one blushing, and he’s looking at her with raised eyebrows. “Who are you?”

 

“Oh shut up,” she says, pushing his arm as he lightly laughs at her. The feeling of him doing so while she’s still perched doesn’t get past her. “Just because we’re horny teenagers--,” He rolls his eyes. “-- doesn’t mean I’m different. I’ll stop telling you things now.”

 

“Hey, no,” he quickly says, shaking his head and letting his hands find hers so they can touch. “I was just surprised, okay? Did you-- did you want to know more?”

 

Julia can tell he’s desperately trying not to cringe at the idea of opening up about something like this, which is kind of cute. That he’s not trying to be overly confident in the hopes that he’ll impress her makes her happy, and while she is fine with the questioning having ended there, she knows if she says no things will wind up uneven.

 

“How long do you wait after I go home?”

 

“Not long,” he admits, squirming a little bit under her gaze. “You’re sure this isn’t weird?”

 

“It isn’t weird,” she reinforces quickly. “I’m self absorbed, remember?”

 

“And there’s no way I can steer this conversation back to us kissing, or literally anything else?” he asks, to which she smiles.

 

“I could be persuaded.”

 

So she is, but they don’t end up inside the same boundary tonight. Instead her hand goes beneath her, fighting against the strained fabric to touch him in a way that makes him groan and roll back all at the same time. She stops only seconds after, too entwined in making him squirm before she realizes what the end result is about to be, and then whispers in his ear, “Fuel for later.”

 

Power felt wonderful sometimes.

 

* * *

  
  


Impatience has began to eat away at both of them. She’s taken off his shirt multiple times, he’s felt her up under hers, and less than slowly they are moving toward the main event that she isn’t dreading like she once was. Except that isn’t entirely true. Somewhere deep down she admits that she doesn’t want to have sex with him, because she  _ does _ want to have sex with him, and after they both have had their first time there wasn’t any reason to continue and be delusional enough to think they aren’t dating or that it doesn’t mean more.

 

So she stalls, and he lets her without any word of wanting otherwise, even if it’s more and more clear that he does. Quentin would never ask more of what’s happening than what is, partly because he’s respectful and partly, she thinks, because he still isn’t entirely sure more will happen. She understands the feeling. If she was sane, nothing more would. If she was anything other than selfish and illogical and hormonal she would have stopped, she tells herself, but she is all of those things.

 

As it turns out, those things don’t go away because she wants them to. In fact they begin to fester, because things escalate more every night. Neither of them have found shirts useful recently, and she knew it was only time before her bra was just a frustrating obstacle as well. Her hands still occasionally met his jeans, and his hands were increasingly firm on her ass and sliding further and further to tease the inside of her legs. Last night it had caused her to whimper. Whimper, of all things. She’d bit his neck in revenge, not realizing exactly what effect she would have until the next day he had a hickey that she was slightly proud of.

 

“You’re smirking,” he tells her as they walk to first period. “You don’t think that’s obvious?”

 

Neither of them had said this was going to be secret, but somehow both of them had unspokenly agreed it should be. It would have been different if they were dating, but this wasn’t that. “Who says I’m not just teasing you?”

 

“You are teasing me,” Quentin retorts, half dryly because of his hickey and half amused because of  _ how _ he had gotten the hickey.

 

“Shut up, Coldwater,” she replies, but her face is warming up. 

 

Quentin smiles now, mischievous, a mood for him that always involves both her feeling happy that he’s happy and not long after exasperated by whatever he’s done. “Not fun in reverse? I could continue. I mean, the conversation right now or last n--,”

 

“Okay!” she says, a little too loud given the way half the hall turns to look at them. He’s only barely holding in laughter at the way he’s gotten under her skin and she’s already planning her revenge. When everyone turns back to what they were doing at the glare she gives them-- after all, they all just assumed it was usual Quentin and Julia hijinks-- she huffs at him. “Fine. I’ll back off if you back off.”

 

“Again, this conversation, or--,”

 

“If you don’t stop, both!” she snaps, and half of a chuckle escapes his lips even despite the shove of her elbow in his side. 

 

He’s happy, Julia notes, torn on how to feel.

  
  


* * *

  
  


By the time the week is over, they both have more than one mark on their bodies. Julia has long hair as fortune would have it, and it turns out to be more fun leaving bites on places south of his neck anyway. They’ve officially ventured out of territory that would be easy to hide if Quentin’s dad ever came in, not that he had. There was a mix of complication with that, stuff that Q never talked about. Ted Coldwater wasn’t over his divorce and often spent time alone in the basement making model planes. He also didn’t seem averse to Quentin having sex, even if she wasn’t sure he thought that Julia Wicker would be apart of that equation.

 

Either way it was getting more difficult to separate, harder to keep any sort of clothing on. Julia was aching for the feeling of something more, her entire body shaking every time she tried to stop from giving into what she wanted. Quentin hadn’t fared any better. There was definitely a lot more swearing involved than there had been to start. Desperate to put off the impending permanent separation, the one where they went back to being friends, Julia takes things to a differently labeled sex route, but it doesn’t go how she plans. Quentin doesn’t let her take care of him, which she wants to say surprises her, but when he begins to reverse things she bites her lip so hard she bleeds.

 

“Was it okay?” he asks, looking unsure when he returns, but she pins him down as quickly as possible and has his underwear off in seconds. Taken ahold of in a way that was impossible to fight by her own body, they kiss deeply while they’re both naked and Quentin is clearly about to let go. Before he can she finds the condom in his nightstand, and she’s shaking as she moves to put it on. When she comes back up to his mouth, he holds her for a second and she trembles. “Jules, are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” she tells him, adding a deep kiss and thinking that she could never be more ready with anyone else, someone less ready to please her or take care of her or make sure she’s okay. “Yes.”

 

After what just happened, she’s ready for him without lube, and other than a twinge so small at opening herself up to him, there isn’t any pain. Shouldn’t there be pain? Not the kind of bliss that makes her almost cry with relief, the kind that makes Q swear and thrust, the kind that makes it all over in a minute but still felt like it had been forever? When she doesn’t move other than to kiss his body, too happy, it isn’t long before he’s growing again and filling her up and this time things are longer. Their unclosed eyes meet this time and Julia comes seconds from whispering every sweet thought she’s ever had about him. Kissing isn’t enough, not even as their bodies find each other in a frantic way that seemed more important than it had ever before. While they had made all of these touches over and over, suddenly they felt new and heady, and not soon after her muscles are tightening as much as his. Feeling everything build up, the trembles and gasps, holding as firmly as she can with her thighs, they finish together and she only holds back her sound by having her mouth in his shoulder.

 

So much for delay, she manages to think, barely coherent in the haze of aftermath. This time she pulls away, only so his arms can better wrap around her, and he kisses her forehead again. “That was--,”

 

“Yeah,” she says, and it’s left alone because there aren’t words to describe things. Nothing comes to mind, not even when she tries, not even when she puts the same effort as she did into her PSAT.

 

Things didn’t hurt, physically, but when she finally leaves his house after hours of contentment, things crash down on her and suddenly she can barely breathe.

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Mackenzie.” Julia sighed when her sister answered her phone despite it being almost eleven at night. God bless college schedules. “Mackenzie.”

 

“Hey girl,” her sister said. “Everything okay?”

 

Casually as possible, she says, “I had sex with Quentin.” And then she starts crying on the goddamn phone like some girl she swore she’d never be.

 

“Oh,” Mackenzie commented. “Oh shit. Seriously?  _ Quentin _ ?”

 

“Mackenzie!” she all but yelled into the phone.

 

“God, ow, sorry okay. Fuck, Jules. Are you alright? That was-- that was your first time, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Julia said, feeling tears well up even larger. “Yeah, I’m-- I mean it was my idea, and it wasn’t-- we’ve been leading up to it and--,”

 

“Leading up to it?”

 

“I mean-- yeah.” Things felt more awkward at the admittal then she realized they were. Not having told anyone for so long had lulled her into the idea that sex with him had been expected.

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

She huffed. “Mackenzie.”

 

“Hey, it matters! Fine. So you had sex with Quentin, it was your idea, you’ve been hooking up… How was it? Good? Awkward? Painful?”

 

“It was-- amazing,” she answered, feeling so embarrassed that she wanted to crawl back under her blankets. Mackenzie had always mercilly teased them when she had still lived with Julia and now she was right, which Julia  _ hated _ but she had no one else to talk to. “I don’t know why people think it’s painful. It didn’t hurt at all, I just--,”

 

“Not at all?” her sister asks, sounding thoughtful. “Interesting.”

 

“Interesting how?”

 

“Just interesting.”

 

“Seriously--,”

 

“Okay, so yeah, your first time doesn’t have to hurt if you’re ready. Physically, of course, but also emotionally. Trust wise. Honestly Jules if it didn’t hurt, don’t you think you’re a little in love with him?”

 

Julia felt her stomach give out. “Don’t you think that joke is old?”

 

“I’m not joking.” Her sister replied, and somehow for once that was even worse.

 

“Fine, so what if I’m in love with him?” she demands. “I’m just going to start dating him and wait for us to have a huge fight until we aren’t friends anymore? After all the stuff we’ve been through? Not to mention we both have our futures to think about and--”

 

“ _ And _ I think you’ve been alone around mom too much, because so what? You’re young and you’re supposed to act young and worry about the Ivy League colleges you’ll get into later. You and Quentin? Yeah, you’ve been together through a lot but that might just be what makes it last.”

 

Julia huffs, looking down at the blanket tassels she’s braiding. “So I’m just supposed to believe that we’ll work out?”

 

“Look at it this way,” Mackenzie sighs. “If you already planned on being best friends forever and the sex was great, why would dating be any different? Forever is forever either way. You can lose friends just as easily as lovers.”

 

* * *

  
  


 

  * _**Q can we talk?**_


  * _idk, not really ready for talking_


  * **It's not what you think.**


  * _just give me a weekend to pretend, okay?_


  * **You don't have to pretend. Things were real. They are real.**


  * _What does that even mean?_


  * **So can we talk? in person?**


  * _just text me. I don't want to have an anxiety attack._


  * **God, fine. Look I don't want to stop what we were doing**



 

  
  


_ Call from Quentin _

  
  


Huffing, Julia answers the phone and impatiently comments, "Seriously--," 

 

"Go ahead," he interrupts.

 

Biting her lip, not sure how to proceed without jumping in, she pinches her arm and admits, "I love you."

 

"I love you too.” But his tone wasn’t relief, instead weariness. “That's not really-- just get to the point.”

 

Fighting against his self doubt was an uphill battle, she knew that, but she still feels sad that he doesn’t just understand. "That  _ is _ the point. I love you. Like, really love. Like in love.”

 

"You don't have to say that,” he tells her, but she think she can hear in the quaver of his voice that it’s his last attempt at defense.

 

"Yes, I do. Not because I think I'll lose you if I don't, or because of what we did, just because I need you to know.” There’s a long silence, too long, and she wonders if maybe she had made a mistake. “Do you-- ?”

 

"Of course,” he replies all at once, and she feels her happiness bloom up again no matter how much she wants to be less cheesy. Hoping she could joke her way out of how there’s a grin on her face when he isn’t even here, she looks at the ceiling and doles out a joke. "Not of course. You could be over me now. Hit it and quit it.”

 

"You're not funny.” Quentin tells her.

 

She giggles. "That's a terrible thing to say to someone you're in love with.”

 

Now he scoffs, but it’s light and when he speaks it’s increasingly pleased. "I think your ego will survive.”

 

"Yeah,” she notes, thinking how she’ll have to give Kayla another birthday present. They’re happy. They’re in love. Quentin and Julia. “Probably."

  
  
  



End file.
